Fix It
by Oneturtledove
Summary: Mulder and Scully have to fix some things.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: No really. They're mine. I'm Chris Carter. Except that's so far from the truth...

Spoilers: Let's just put it this way. If you haven't seen an episode or a scene or a deleted scene, or read an article about how they were going to construct the plot, or believed rumors or watched an episode in slo-mo rewind... well then... you're not really a fan. What the heck are you doing here?

A/N: When you work with words... words are your work. So I guess if you cut me, I'd bleed ink. Anyway, I'm kind of stuck on my other two ongoing stories, so I thought I would type up this little nugget for those people who haven't died of boredom from reading my stuff. I kind of like you guys.

* * *

The fight had started out trivial enough. Mulder had been droning on and on about reality TV and Scully had obviously argued with him. She didn't buy into the idea that people would act normally in front of a camera, especially when there was money involved. Mulder of course thought that reality TV was a peek into the psyche of a person whose very future is on the line. He also believed that many anthropological studies could be done from watching hours and hours of "The Real World." Leaving her comments about the women's attire aside, Scully pointed out that making people live in conditions different from their real environment would make them act differently than normal and therefore, skew any research that could be done, even if you could stretch your imagination that far. And then came Mulder's rebuttal, which sealed his fate.

"Scully, you wouldn't understand anthropology or even the basic ways people communicate with others because you never do. You come to work and them go home to your little hidey-hole and never poke your head out unless there's a body in need of slicing. You'd be a monk if you could."

"I'd be a monk? Mulder, short of making a rope out of your own beard, you are a monk. The only reason I don't have a social life is because you make it impossible. I sleep like 5 hours a night. If I had anything going on other than work I would never sleep. And what makes you think that I don't know how to interact with other people?"

"Because you never do. You don't have friends."

"Again, when do I have the time?"

"I don't want to argue about how much you hate this job, I'm just saying that you can't judge social situations that you have never been in yourself."

"Then unless you have been on a reality show, you cannot judge them favorably."

"I'm judging them based on entertainment value, you're judging them based on their contribution to science."

"You're the one who started that discussion, Mulder. I would never stoop so low as to equalize reality TV with rational science."

"So I'm irrational?"

"Sometimes."

"Name once."

"Just one?"

"You know, you don't think very clearly yourself sometimes."

"Really?"

"You thought it was a grand idea to go out on a date with a stranger and get a tattoo with him and go back to his apartment and allow yourself to be in a compromising situation."

"Hey, you just said I need to get out more," she retorted, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah, just don't leave your brain in D.C. next time."

"Mulder, you know maybe I spend so much time being careful, I needed to be reckless. But I wasn't even that reckless and you don't even know the whole story."

"Because you never tell me things."

"I tell you plenty."

"You do not. You never let me in. You're always harping on me to trust you and tell you things and not ditch you, but heaven forbid I ask the same of you. You put up these walls that you don't even need, you treat me like crap and you expect us to have this great partnership. You can't hide things from me all the time. It's not fair. What are you so afraid of? Do you think I'll use things against you? Do you assume that I'll think less of you and start treating you as some delicate flower? Do you really know me that little?"

"Mulder, I don't even know where this conversation is going anymore."

"It's going to point out the fact that if you won't pay me the same courtesies that I pay you, then don't get mad when I call you on it."

"I give you so much more than you give me-"

"Oh, is that a wall I hear going up?"

"When did you turn 13 again? Are you really going to play this way?"

"What?"

"This game you play. Taking cheap shots and evading questions and yelling at me, hoping to loose me in semantics."

"That's crap."

"It is not. It's what you do. It's what you've always done. It's the reason why sometimes I hate you."

"You hate me?"

"Yeah, sometimes. You drive me insane. You always want to know every little detail of my life and what I think and how I arrived at that thought and where I'm going to go from here and how you can change my thinking because it doesn't match up with yours."

"So now I'm a manipulator."

"You didn't know? You tell me things like I'm your one in five billion or you can't do this without me or I complete you or some crap like that and I believe you and do whatever you want. You convince me of things at the risk of other people's lives and then you don't care and I take the heat for it. You've manipulated me into being your partner for 7 years, to the point where I don't know if I even want to be here anymore. Sometimes I don't even know which thoughts are my own. You always say that I'm so strong and independent, but I'm really not. I'm just an extension of you. I don't know who I am. I used to laugh, Mulder. I used to spend time with my mother and my brothers. I used to know how old my nieces and nephews are. I used to have time to do my own laundry. And now, I'm not even recognizable as who I was before. You did that to me. You stole my life."

Her words hit him harder than he wanted to admit. He literally felt like his chair was reaching around and gripping his chest like a vise.

"So after all these years, all those times you reassured me that the things that happened to you weren't my fault, and that you didn't want to leave, those were all lies?"

"Mulder-"

"I can't believe anything you say now. It's just meant to placate me."

"Mulder, I-"

"No wait, placating is what I do to you. Placating and manipulating. That's what you really think of me, isn't it? Well that's just great, Scully. Just great."

"This is exactly why I hate you Mulder."

"Whatever, Scully."

He stomped out of the office, forgetting his coat. She sighed to herself and fought the urge to go after him. They'd sleep on it, and tomorrow would be a new day. They'd forget about the fight. They always did, after all. They'd never have to talk about it again.


	2. Chapter 2

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A/N: I wanted to see if I could get Scully to melt down. It's a little out of character for her, but that's kind of the point. Love it or hate it.

* * *

Scully watched the rain outside as she washed the dinner dishes. It seemed she always ended up at her mother's after a fight with Mulder. Maybe it was a childish desire to be taken care of, or maybe it was that Mulder was right and she didn't have any friends. Her mother was the only person she could talk to. Taking her eyes away from the window, she concentrated on the conversation in the other room. Bill was in town for a surprise visit. He had the worst timing in the world.

Bill had already had a "discussion" with her about "that guy Mulder" and her job. He'd overheard her explanation to their mother about the fight, and had immediately gotten protective of his little sister. Rather than fight back, Scully just sat there and took it. Even though she was mad at Mulder and even though they weren't exactly on speaking terms, she felt like her lack of defense was a betrayal.

Sighing for what felt like the twelve-thousandth time in the last hour, she dried the last plate and joined her mother and brother in the front room.

"Dana, I forgot to tell you who I saw on base the other day," Bill said, scooting over to make room for her on the couch. She sat down as far away from him as she could without being obvious about it.

"Someone I know?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want me to guess?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nah. It was Andrew."

"Andrew? What's he up to these days? Still mooching off his parents and working at the arcade?"

"He's a reporter."

"A reporter? That guy can't even string a coherent sentence together, much less put pen to paper. How did he manage that?"

"I'm not sure. Anyway, he told me to tell you hello. He wanted to know if you're still single. I told him you were married to your work, but he didn't believe me."

"He's got some serious issues," she muttered, remembering the worst relationship she'd ever been in. Andrew was a world-class liar. He was a charmer and a thief and had cheated on her the first chance he got. More than being mad at him, she'd been mad at herself for giving him a chance in the first place. The relationship had been based on nothing more than their ability to make the other laugh. The whole thing was stupid.

"He wasn't that bad, Dana."

"Mom, name one thing about him that was good."

Maggie thought for a long moment.

"He came from money," she offered after a while.

Scully chuckled and rolled her eyes as her cell phone rang.

"Scully," she answered, standing up to go into the other room.

"Agent Scully, it's Skinner."

"What's the matter?" she asked, immediately on alert. Skinner called her about as often as Langley combed his hair.

"It's Mulder. He's been in a car accident."

"What?"

"Head-on collision. The doctors won't tell me much except that he's in surgery. I think you should get down here as soon as possible. Georgetown Memorial."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"I don't know."

She disconnected the call and headed for the door.

"Dana, what's wrong?"

"Mulder's hurt. I have to go. Where's my coat?" she asked almost frantically searching the coat rack.

"It's right here. Dana, let me drive you-"

"You don't drive fast enough, mom."

"Then I'll drive," Bill said, taking her arm and leading her outside. "Just point me in the right direction.

* * *

Upon arriving at the hospital, Scully headed straight for the surgical floor and the unfortunate receptionist at the desk.

"Where's Fox Mulder?"

"I- I'm not sure, I just came on shift."

"Don't you prepare yourself before you sit down at this desk? Don't you want to know what's going on around here?"

The receptionist started to stutter out an excuse and Scully was about to pounce on her again when Skinner spotted her.

"Agent Scully, you're going to have to settle down."

"Have you heard anything? How is he? What happened?"

She knew she sounded hysterical, but she wasn't sure why. Mulder had been in much worse situations before.

"You need to sit down."

"Why?!"

"Because you're about to hyperventilate. Sit."

She obeyed and Skinner sat next to her.

"I don't know much more than what I already told you. A Dr. Evans is taking operating on him. He was injured badly, although I haven't been told the nature of the injuries."

"Why didn't they call me?"

"They tried your home phone, you didn't answer. They called me instead."

Just as she was about to rapid-fire another question at him, the doctor came into the room. He introduced himself and sat down in the chair across from Scully. They'd met before, although she couldn't place when. With the amount of trouble Mulder got into, they could have just seen him the week before.

"Miss Scully, Mr. Mulder was brought into the emergency room about three hours ago. He suffered some head trauma, a collapsed lung and some bruising on his spinal cord. They repaired the lung in the E.R. and sent him for a cat-scan. The scan revealed bleeding in his brain. I've just come from surgery. We were able to fix the bleed pretty easily, but at this point we're not really sure what the long-term effects are going to be."

"You mean he might not wake up."

"I can't guarantee it, no."

"What about his spine?"

"That's going to be a waiting game. Because he hasn't been conscious we haven't been able to perform mobility tests. We're going to have to wait until the swelling goes down and he wakes up."

"Will he walk?"

"It's too early to tell."

"So is he stable or..."

"He's in critical condition. We're going to have to monitor him very closely."

She sighed and dropped her head to her hands, not wanting to look at the small flecks of blood that dotted the surgeons scrubs.

"Can I see him?"

"We've moved him to the recovery room and in a few hours we'll move him to the ICU. You can see him then."

"I need to see him now."

"Miss Scully, I can't let you into the recovery room."

"You don't understand. I need to see him right now," she said, standing up from her chair.

"It's against hospital policy."

"I'm his doctor-"

"His doctor who does not have privileges at this hospital."

"I don't care!"

Suddenly she felt herself being restrained by Skinner; heard herself yelling and crying, demanding to see her partner. It was the closest thing to an out of body experience that she'd ever had.

Skinner guided her back to the chair, where she sat down, covered her face and cried. She was faintly aware that her mother and brother had been witnesses to the whole ordeal, and were now distancing themselves from her, but at this point, she didn't care. Skinner was beside her again, a hand on her shoulder.

"Dana."

"I told him I hate him. That's the last thing I said to him. He's going to die thinking that. He's going to die. He's going to die."

She muttered the phrase over and over as she cried. Skinner just sat there, taking in the phenomenon known as "Dana Scully Officially Loses It." He thought it would never happen, not for something as mundane as a car accident.

Scully rocked back and forth in her chair for several minutes before finally sitting up.

"I need to see him. I need to tell him. He can't die before he knows. Before he knows I don't hate him. He can't die alone. I can't let him."

The phrases were coming to mind like pearls of a broken necklace. Unconnected, useless. His face filled her mind- the look he had given her right before leaving this afternoon. The grin and kiss on her forehead a few days before. A chuckle as they shared a private joke. The wild, unharnessed look he got when chasing a lead. The puppy eyes, at least once a day. The wink when he caught her eye across the room. The vacancy in his face when the day was too long and the heartbreak too much.

"Mulder. Mulder," she whispered, trying to hold back the tears, which to her conscious mind were becoming quite embarrassing. She sat that way for a long time. Skinner tried to console her, but he wasn't much help. Her mother eventually came over, whispering comforting things in her ear, but it didn't work. She was nauseated now, picturing her partner as a broken man, relying on others to help him get around. What if he needed a wheelchair? What if there was brain damage? The man she had fought with several hours ago may never return.

* * *

It was almost 11 p.m. by the time Dr. Evans came back. He looked tired, and slightly wary of the now disheveled woman before him. He'd seen people lose control before, but never a woman as strong as this. It puzzled him greatly. He'd seen her a few times before, waiting for her partner, pacing, chewing her nails, but never crying. Never inconsolable or irrational. He had half a mind to call for a psych consult.

"Miss Scully?"

"Yes?" she questioned, looking up to meet his eyes. He'd never seen a fear quite so obvious and intense.

"We've moved your partner into the ICU. He's still unconscious, but the swelling around his spine has decreased considerably. You can see him now if you'd like."

She nodded and followed him down the long hallway.


	3. Chapter 3

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A/N: I don't like flames. They make me cry. Just a little food for thought.

* * *

She sat down quietly in the chair next to his bed, quickly looking over the tubes and wires, just to make sure they were placed correctly. Deciding that the doctors were at least competent, she turned her gaze to her bruised partner. His head was bandaged and he had several cuts on his face, but he didn't really look all that bad. They had intubated him, probably after fixing his lung, and he had an IV in each arm. She took his hand and ran her thumb over his knuckles.

She was quiet, concentrating on him, wishing she could fix him, fix them. No matter how many times she saw him like this, it always managed to kill something inside. But he always seemed to recover, and go back to being her Mulder.

_My Mulder..._ she thought with a slight smile. He was hers, whether either of them liked it or not. Trying not to disturb him too much, she sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed a piece of hair away from his forehead.

"Hey Mulder. I feel like I need to talk to you, but I don't know what to say. Or even how to say it. You can't exactly respond to me right now. I don't even know why I'm talking to you. Maybe it's what you were saying the other day; that when we're apart for more than a few hours you feel like you have to talk to me right away. I guess it does go both ways." She sighed and laced her fingers with his. "Once you get better we need to talk, okay? I just want you to know that I don't hate you or resent you. I get frustrated sometimes, but you're my partner and my friend. You always will be."

The doctor came into the room and stood at the end of the bed.

"10 minutes are up. You can come back in an hour."

She nodded and stood from the bed, then leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Mulder's forehead.

"I'll be back soon."

She slipped silently from the room, then stood at the window and watched him for several minutes.

* * *

_Why'd you leave me?_ she thought, looking down at his handkerchief that she clutched in her hands. The handkerchief that he'd always carried but rarely used. It smelled like him. He'd had it in his pocket that night. He'd been on his way to see her when his car had wrecked. That was three weeks ago and he'd never woken up. She'd made the hardest decision of her life and taken him off the ventilator. She'd stood there, holding his hand, watching his chest, waiting for it to rise and fall again. But it hadn't. The alarms had gone off, and Skinner and slowly reached around her to turn them off. Quietly, the doctor had confirmed that Fox Mulder had passed. Scully sat in that room for a long time, willing herself not to cry. His hand had grown cold in hers, then started to get stiff. Choking back a sob, she had placed a gentle kiss on his lips, then left the room.

Her doctor had prescribed anti-depressants. She wasn't taking them. After the funeral (which his mother had refused to attend), she had slept for the better portion of 4 days. She was vaguely aware of her mother and Skinner coming to check on her, but she didn't care. Her dreams were safe. Mulder was still alive in her dreams. Alive and healthy and joking with her. Smiling, hugging her, forgiving her for what she'd said. He was there. Real. She hated waking up. Every time her eyes opened, the first thought that came to her mind was _Mulder's not here._ The thought stayed with her until she fell asleep again.

She couldn't bring herself to visit his grave. It was too permanent. It was wrong for him to be buried in one place. Mulder had never stayed still in his life. A confined grave was a mockery of the man he was.

Sometimes she felt she'd been through it before. Knowing that he was probably dead. But those times, she just couldn't believe it. She hadn't felt it. But this time, she had to. He was gone. He'd never come back. Even on those nights when she sat quietly in her room, focusing her thinking on him, hoping he would at least make an ethereal appearance, she knew that it was over. Even his beliefs hadn't stayed with her.

This night, she as she sat on the edge of her bed, his handkerchief in her hands, and her gun on the night table, she thought long and hard about what she wanted to do. She wanted to die sometimes. She knew she couldn't kill herself. When she met up with Mulder in the next life, he'd be so mad at her. She couldn't start out on the wrong foot. She chided herself for thinking of something so foolish. There was no next life. And she wasn't a character in a Dickens novel.

She lay down slowly, bring the handkerchief up to wipe her eyes. At least she had her dreams. Tonight she'd see him. He would be alive and whole and warm. At least tonight.

* * *

A/N II: I'm so so so sorry guys. Stay tuned.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: At the end...

* * *

Scully bolted upright, catching her breath as the dream fell out of her consciousness. _Mulder was dead. Mulder was dead. I was alone. He was dead. I was alone._ She felt nauseated.

"Dana," Bill asked crouching down by where she was lying on the waiting room chairs. "Are you okay?"

"I... I..." she stammered, standing up quickly and heading for the closest garbage can where she got sick.

When she was finished, she sat back down in the chairs and caught her breath.

"Dana, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she answered, waving him away. "Bad dream."

"You wanna tell me about it?"

"No, it doesn't matter."

"It matters to you. What happened?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Maybe not, but at least you could talk about it. Was it about him?"

"I dreamt that he died."

"Oh Dana. I'm sorry," he said with a sigh.

"No you're not, Bill."

"Yes I am. I hate seeing you like this. And as much as I don't like the guy, you do. He matters to you and you care about him, I have no idea why, but regardless, I don't want you to feel like this."

"Well... thanks."

"You should go home for a while. It's been 2 days."

"I know, I just..."

"Can't leave."

"Yeah."

"Go. Take two hours. Grab a shower and some real food. He's not going anywhere."

"Thanks Bill."

She left the waiting room and took a slight detour to Mulder's room on the way to the parking garage. They had moved him into a semi-private room the day before. She would have been in there all the time but they were really strict about visiting hours. He was starting to look better. He'd lost that yellow hue and the puffiness around his eyes. He was still bandaged of course, but the bruises were fading. They had removed his breathing tube yesterday and he'd been breathing just fine on his own. Now they were just waiting for him to regain consciousness. She sighed as she peeked quickly in the little window. No change.

* * *

"Hey Mulder," Scully greeted, several hours later, sitting down on the edge of his bed and kissing his cheek. She held his hand in hers gently, grateful for the warmth. "Your constant silence is really bugging me, you know."

She watched his face for a moment, then sighed. Now she was more irritated than annoyed. She shifted slightly so she could lay down with him. She'd never really done that before.

"I know what you're thinking, Mulder. Shut up. I'm tired, okay?"

It wasn't more than 10 minutes before she fell asleep.

* * *

A/N: I just couldn't keep him dead. Maybe someday when I have really bad PMS, I'll be able to do it. As it is, I am hormone free right now.


	5. Chapter 5

She'd been sitting in his room holding his hand for hours. She'd read two medical journals, talked to Skinner once, and had even called the Gunmen to update them on his status. Visiting hours were almost over and she was getting tired. She turned his hand over, running her finger gently along the lines of his hand. He'd done that to her a lot, when she was sick with cancer. He'd sit there for what seemed like an hour, but what was probably minutes, memorizing every line on her hand. Then he'd lean in and kiss her palm before tucking her small hand between both of his. She repeated his actions now, hoping that the familiarity would lure him back to consciousness. Whether it was the motion itself, or Mulder's impeccable timing, she didn't know, but right as she settled his hand between hers, he coughed gently and opened his eyes.

"Scully?"

"Hey Mulder," she greeted with a smile.

"You really did it this time," he rasped out, his eyes almost spinning.

"Did what?" she asked, squeezing his hand.

"All those times you said you were going to take me out back and half kill me. You really did it."

She chuckled and leaned down to kiss his forehead.

"It wasn't me so much as the guy driving the car that hit you, but either way, I think the point was made."

He smiled.

"How long have I been out?"

She sighed.

"Six days."

He blinked a few times as it sunk in. Six days.

"Well, not a record, but still respectable."

"That's not funny, Mulder. I was worried about you."

"I can tell. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," she sighed, peeling her eyes away from his. "None of it was."

He remembered enough to know what she meant by that.

"So, how long until I get out of here?"

"Mulder," she laughed, wiping a tear from her eye. "You only woke up a minute ago. You've had surgery, you've been unconscious."

"There's more isn't there?" he asked. His ability to read her had not been put out of commission apparently.

"Mulder, your doctor needs to come in and check you out, okay?"

"Scully what is it?"

"Just sit tight, I'll be right back."

Fortunately she met his doctor in the hallway and practically pulled the man inside the room.

"Agent Mulder, it's good to see you awake. How do you feel?"

"Well rested," he dead-panned, earning a slight smile from Scully.

"We hope so. Now I'm sure Agent Scully has brought you up to date on your condition."

"A little, although there's something she's not telling me."

The doctor looked a little uncomfortable and glanced over at Scully.

"Mulder," she began, sitting on his bed and taking his hand. "You had a collapsed lung when they brought you in. They were able to fix it, but then they found some bleeding on your brain. Obviously they fixed that too."

"What else, Scully?"

Her hesitation was slight.

"There was some trauma to your spine. No one is sure how extensive it is quite yet."

She watched as the news sunk in and he swallowed hard.

"Scully, I can't move my legs."

"I know. As far as we know, it's short term. We thought the swelling would go down more than it has, but now that you're awake, we have more options. Just don't panic, okay? It's very unlikely that you're paralyzed, but it will probably be a while before you regain full used of your legs, alright?"

He nodded, his jaw clenching in anger.

"We'll figure it out, okay, Mulder? You're just going to have to be patient."

Neither of them noticed the doctor slipping out of the room.

"Scully if I can't walk-"

"That won't happen. It's probably going to take some physical therapy and it's going to be painful, but I'll be there and we'll do it together. Deal?"

"I don't want you to see me like that, Scully."

"Too bad. You're stuck with me, Mulder. I thought you knew that by now."

He smiled a little and she leaned down to kiss his cheek.

"You've got to be hungry. Want me to go find you something? They might let you have Jell-o."

"Yeah, sure, I guess."

She sighed, let her free hand wander over his stomach.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

He nodded and she leaned in, pressing her forehead to his.

"We'll get through this, Mulder. You and me, alright? I love you."

"Love you too."

"Hey, buck up. You have me as your personal assistant, 24/7 until you're fit for duty. And I swear I won't complain."

He smiled and she kissed him softly.

"I'll be right back, Mulder."

"I'll be here," he replied, giving her hand a squeeze before she left.

She found his nurse and requested that a tray be brought up, then she ducked into the women's restroom for some privacy. She splashed some water on her face and sighed at her reflection.

They always did this when one woke up in the hospital. The promises to stay, the light touches, the hand holding, the "I love you's", the kisses. She had to regain her composure before she saw him again. It was the only way they got through things like this, but it was starting to wear on her nerves.

She rubbed her eyes and left the bathroom.

"Hey Scully," Mulder said when she reentered his room.

"Yeah?"

"My nurse is hot."

"Well, you're back to normal. Maybe I shouldn't have taken your unconsciousness for granted."

They were both masking pain and fear, and they both knew it, but to act in a way not in accordance to their everyday roles would only make the process harder.

"What about the night nurse? What's she like?"

"There's a reason she works nights, Mulder."

He groaned and she patted his face.

"If I get out of here for a bit will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine."

"I just need a shower and a change of clothes and some real food. I'll be back in a few hours."

"Go, Scully. I can see your butt print in that chair. You haven't left much."

"Just once."

"Go, get some sleep too. I'll be fine. They've got cable here," he said, showing her the remote that he had already gotten his hands on.

"Okay. You call me if you need anything though, okay?"

"I will, Scully. The nurse said they're going to take me for a scan in a while, but I can handle it."

She nodded and leaned in to kiss his forehead.

"I'm glad you're okay," she said, her lips still pressed to his skin. She pulled away after a moment and let her eyes say what her mouth couldn't.

"I'll be back in a while," she said aloud before leaving the room.

It wasn't until she was all the way home that she finally let herself cry.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I'm not sure if I'm done with this one or not.... sorry it's been such a long wait. I kind of pooped out on it.  


* * *

"Scully, I have something to confess," Mulder muttered when Scully entered his room several hours later.

"What's that?"

"I judge hospitals based solely on the cable channels they get."

"And how does Georgetown Memorial rate?"

"Terrible. All they get is Nickelodeon and women's movie channels."

"Wait until 10, then you'll get Nick at Night."

"Great, so I can fall asleep to the sounds of the Brady Bunch."

"I always identified with Cindy," she said with a smile.

"You mean baby talk baby talk, it's a wonder you can walk?"

"It was just a slight lisp," she said, blushing.

He laughed and held his hand out to her.

"Come over here."

She obeyed and sat down next to him.

"I want you to tell me the truth, Scully."

"About what?"

"The spinal injury. How bad is it?"

She sighed and he reached for her hand.

"It's a lot of swelling. I really don't know more than that."

"So definitely physical therapy?"

"Yeah, starting tomorrow morning."

"Will it be painful?"

"A little hard work never hurt anyone."

"Scully."

"Yes, it will probably be painful, and yes, you're probably going to feel terrible, and you're going to want to give up. But I'm not going to let you. Okay?"

He nodded.

"And after it's all over, we'll never talk about it again, right?"

"If that's what you want."

"I don't like it when you see me down."

"I know you don't. But you're going to have to get over that."

They sat quietly for a while and her gaze fell to their hands.

"Mulder, we need to talk."

"About what?"

"Our fight. Or maybe not the fight specifically, but maybe the reasons we fought."

"I thought it was because we were both tired and grumpy and we hadn't fought in a while and we were due."

"You know what I'm talking about, Mulder. We kissed. And it wasn't because one of us was injured and in the hospital. It wasn't even because it was New Years, because you keep doing it and we keep not talking about it. And maybe that's the problem. We're not talking about it."

"What do you want me to say, Scully?"

"I don't know. I just... if it had been just the one New Years kiss, this wouldn't have been an issue. But you keep doing it. You do it every day. Most people don't kiss their friends every day."

"No, they don't."

"Why do you do it then?"

"I think you know, Scully."

"I need you to tell me."

"Do you hate it?"

"No, I don't. But I would like clarification in the matter."

He sighed.

"I love you."

"I know."

"Maybe I'm in love with you. Maybe I want to be with you forever and maybe I want to wake up every morning with you next to me. Maybe I want to marry you."

Her eyes bulged out as she stared at him, but he ignored it.

"Maybe I want to get a dog and a house and adopt some kids and live like we're Ward and June Cleaver with less conventional jobs. Maybe I want to take vacations with you and grow old together and retire early so we can travel around to all the places we've been but never really got to see. Or maybe I just like kissing you, Scully. Maybe I like that closeness, even if it's just for one second. And maybe it doesn't matter if it makes us fight, because I'm going to keep doing it. There, are you happy?"

She was grinning from ear to ear. She leaned down and kissed him gently.

"Yeah, I'm happy."

"Do you understand why I don't talk about these things?"

"Because you don't think about them thoroughly enough to discuss them?"

"Yep."

"So it wouldn't be fair for me to ask you what brought these feelings on or what you're going to do about them. Right?"

"Guess not. Although it would help if you told me where you stand on the whole issue."

She sighed.

"I love you. I always will. Whether I'm in love with you or not, I can't say. I don't even know what that really means. But I can tell you this," she said, her eyes growing dark and serious. "If anything like this ever happens again, I don't know what I'll do. I'm too old for this kind of stuff. My heart can't take it."

"This wasn't my fault, Scully."

"I know that. But I didn't handle this very well."

"Skinner told me. So did your mom."

"Great."

"It's not like either one of them acted anything out, but they were both very clear that you were not yourself."

"Well, just remember that for next time."

"I will."

She sighed a little and leaned back to share his pillow.

"By the way, your car is totaled."

"Figured."

"Guess this means we're going car shopping again."

"I guess so."

"Can we at least test drive a convertible?"

"I'll think about it."

"A nice red one."

"We'll see what they have."

"Thanks."

"It doesn't take much to please you, does it?"

"No, it really doesn't."

"Good, because I'm a simple man."

"Oh believe me, I know."


End file.
